


A Scientist Is Usually Fine

by Sorida



Series: Tales From the Vale...s? [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: ...ing of pillows, But only a tiny bit, Carlos is Sick, Carlos is a Dork, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Knows Very Little, Cecil Tries, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I still love how that's actually a tag, I'm Sorry, M/M, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, and Cecil worries too much, and atypical weirdness, aren't i funny?, because Carlos is grumpy when he's sick, he really does, like we need to tag typical weirdness, tags are addicting, there will be much fluff, which could just mean normality???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorida/pseuds/Sorida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It really was only a matter of time until one of them got sick. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Carlos knew it would be him. He'd really meant to prepare Cecil for it but there was always science to do and well, actually walking Cecil through taking care of a sick Carlos just wasn't at the top of the list...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Scientist Is Usually Fine

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's tons of sick boyfriend fics but I really had to give this a shot. Not literally though, I wouldn't waste a bullet like that. You know, immunity and all.

There are those days and there are  _those_ days. There are those days when you wake up, happily initiate the traditional wake-up screaming at the Void session, have a nice breakfast with your sleepy yet entirely adorable boyfriend, and then do science for the day and make things explode at your leisure. Those days are nice, fun, and usually end with said boyfriend gushing on and on about how "imperfectly perfect" (which, let's face it, will cause a massive headache if you think about it too much)  _his_ boyfriend is.

And then there are  _those_ days where you wake up, can't breathe through your nose, and your throat feels like someone took a hacksaw to it and then sewed it back together with the biggest needle they could find. That usually doesn't happen unless it's a slow day for the Sheriff's Secret Police and they literally have nothing better to do.

Well, Carlos was having one of  _those_ days and it started a little something like this.

As the sun peaked in from the partially opened shades (which were like that on request of the Sheriff's Secret Police), Carlos awoke with a groan. Ok, less of a groan and more of a pitiful whining noise that couldn't have been louder than maybe -10 Hertz with some generous rounding. On the other side of the bed, Cecil stirred slightly before rolling onto his side and mumbling something about avocados being lumpy green liars.

Carlos would've checked the time had he actually possessed the energy to do so. He always slept on his stomach with his head facing Cecil while said radio host usually slept on his back with his head facing Carlos. They'd both agreed that the sight of each other was much better than either of their night stands or alarm clocks. Neither clock was accurate as time pieces didn't work in Night Vale, but having them read within ten minutes of each other helped them both get up on time and not miss any important events. Although with both the sun  _and_ the clocks being entirely inaccurate, it was a wonder that the SSP or Station Management could actually tell when citizens/Cecil were late or not. Maybe it was a Night Vale thing. He could study that, see how people's internal clocks worked. After all, Cecil did always manage to wake himself up between 10:00am and 10:30am, so his body had to have been trained to do so even when time didn't work...

"Carlos? Carlos!" Cecil's frantic voice made his eyes shoot open. He blinked, trying to allow his eyes to focus on the blurry image of his boyfriend above him. Why did Cecil sound so nervous? Carlos tried to say something, but all that came out was a raspy exhale and a coughing fit. He felt Cecil's hands on his back and shoulder, gently maneuvering him onto his back and propped against the headboard. Once the coughing subsided, the somewhat panic-stricken face of his boyfriend entered his field of view.

"Carlos?" Cecil asked timidly. "Are you ok? I was so worried. You know, you usually get up before I do and you never sleep in unless the day's been cancelled or it's a Sunday and it was hard to here you breathe and I didn't know what to do since the City Council outlawed CPR..." His voice was soft and slightly higher than usual. Due to his career choice (come to think of it, he may not have had much of a choice in the matter), Cecil could usually keep his composure together either for the sake of professionalism or for the people listening to him. The only things that truly seemed to shake him were Station Management, re-education, and bad things happening to the people, or pets, he loved. This was one of those times and suddenly, Carlos was whisked back to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex and the voice on the radio was sobbing and definitely not what he was used to hearing and it was wrong to hear such a strong, melodious voice reduced to tears and stuttering.

But, although he may feel like it, Carlos wasn't dying and Cecil had to know that. The scientist nodded, bringing up an arm to cough into, as his mind quickly evaluated all the discomforts his body was going through. Stuffy nose, throat shot to the Void and back, the feeling of a thousand Erikas marching through his head...yep, probably the flu or another common illness. It felt a little worse than a cold and Carlos groaned. That would mean he'd need at least four or five days to recover and that meant four or five days without  _science._

The frustrated sound did not escape Cecil's range of hearing and the radio host's body went ramrod straight. To that, Carlos inwardly groaned. He wasn't the biggest fan of people doting on him or babying him when he didn't feel well. The occasional cup of hot tea and soup were much appreciated, but knowing Cecil's track record, the man was going to wait on him hand and foot. And as a sick person, Carlos was not fun to be around. Despite his semi-introverted nature, he could be downright mean when he was feeling miserable enough.

"Oh Carlos, my sweet, handsome Carlos..." Cecil gushed, pressing the inside of his wrist to Carlos' forehead. "Hmm...yep, that is definitely a temperature and not the good kind. I'd say around 101.3 maybe? I don't know, it's been a while since I've been around someone who's sick and the whole Lyme disease thing really messed with me. Hang on, I'm going to get you some water and make you some tea and then I'll bring out the bloodstone circle so we can eradicate those pesky microbes from your imperfectly perfect weakened immune system. I'll be right back." Without another word, Cecil swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up...only to go crashing to the floor since his legs were still tangled up in the sheets. With a muffled "I'm okay!" and a sheepish smile, he headed into the bathroom to grab a cup of water.

Usually, Carlos would find this behavior so very endearing and he'd tease Cecil about how klutzy he is. But a sick, bed-ridden Carlos with no access to even the most basic of sciences was not so easily amused. He sank back in the pillows Cecil managed to shove behind his back and pouted a bit. Normally, the petulant child attitude was displayed by Cecil. The man practically made an art out of it. Right now, Carlos was a close contender for the Best Man-Child award and by the time Cecil returned, it only got worse. The scientist was biting back comments ranging from "Cecil, you know I only work in Celsius," to flat-out biting his boyfriend's hand.

"Small sips," the radio host instructed, allowing Carlos to take the small paper cup from his hand. "I'm still not entirely sure what's plaguing you and I don't want to do the wrong bloodstone ritual and make it worse." He cupped the scientist's face, oblivious to the sneer making its way onto the other man's face. "Don't worry, I'll take very good care of you. I will admit, I do not know a lot about taking care of another sick person. In fact, there are a lot of things I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I know how to make you feel better and, you know, not with the usual stuff." Cecil smiled, kissing Carlos' burning forehead. The touch set Carlos off and without thinking, he pushed Cecil away. It wasn't a particularly hard or strong push, but it was enough for the radio host to get the message. The hurt in those deep violet eyes didn't faze Carlos the way they normally did. Actually, his mind was reveling in this small victory. But the emotion was quickly masked and Cecil simply got up and walked away.

As Carlos sipped on his water, he could here some impressive crashes and colorful language coming from down the hall. What was Cecil doing? He did say he was going to make tea but did tea mean something else in Night Vale? Like, was tea actually a codeword for the blood of Cecil's enemies? Now that he thought about it, the jar of red liquid in Cecil's part of the closet never really sat right with him...

" _STREXCORP!!!!!"_ an enrage Cecil shouted. The man stomped back into the bedroom, torn between pouting and snarling in frustration. "Of course my bloodstones aren't here. Stupid me! I thought all bloodstones would be returned to their proper owners but nooooooo. Stupid Kevin probably has them or some other Strex employee and ugh! Those Erikas, who do not exist, better be doing something good with them. Damn it, those were my family bloodstones!" He took a deep breath to collect himself. After a few seconds, he continued in a much calmer tone than before. "Well, I'll just have to improvise with a salt circle. I'm sorry my dear, handsome Carlos, but it's going to be much more uncomfortable than the bloodstone circle would be. But we really should figure out what's wrong with you and this is the only way I know how..."

Cecil was fussing. It wasn't even noon yet and Cecil already looked rundown from worry. Cecil wasn't allowed to fret over him and every time he talked, it sounded like fingernails against a chalkboard. Carlos wasn't entirely sure of where the anger was coming from, but it had been building and building and he couldn't take any more of Cecil's rambling or the pounding in his head or the need to simply break the man in front of him. Once he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to shut his mouth but he just  _didn't care._

"Cecil, for once in your life, would you kindly  _shut up?_ " Carlos snapped. His voice was scratchy and barely over a whisper, but the words carried and suddenly, Cecil's full attention was on him. "All you've been doing is worrying and mother-henning and did you think for one moment that I appreciated it? Can't you just annoy someone else? I'm sick, big whoop. We all get sick, Cecil! It is scientifically impossible for someone to never get sick!" The look on Cecil's face was completely unreadable. Carlos snarled and continued. "Do you really have nothing else to do than to serve your boyfriend? I mean really Cecil, is there anyone else that you love? Anyone else you can care about? There's, what, your sister and niece? I've heard you mention Janice a whopping two times and you claim that you love her? And I didn't know you had a sister until Steve Carlsberg told me about her! Is there anything else you're keeping from me? Are you really that desperate to love someone like me?"

Carlos sneered, something deep inside him gaining some sort of satisfaction about digging into the man he loved. He wanted to see Cecil break, to see him burst into tears and to hear his muffled sobs from down the hall. Anything about their relationship could make the other man cry. But...Cecil wasn't crying. It didn't look like he was going to cry. In fact, he looked...relieved? And he was  _smiling?_

"Why are you happy?" Carlos asked, venom practically dripping off of every word. "You don't deserve to be happy."

"Oh, you know," Cecil replied nonchalantly, waving a hand in the air. "Reasons...like what's making you sick." Carlos blinked and suddenly, Cecil was standing right in front of him. "Did you honestly think this was my first sickness-induced-possession? Now listen, we can do this the easy way, in which you get out of my boyfriend's mind without any harm to yourself, or I make the salt circle and banish you to the viscera-coated hell that is Desert Bluffs." He crossed his arms with a smirk. "Choose wisely."

Suddenly, Carlos felt  _something_ separate from his subconscious and he felt himself being pushed behind some stronger force. It was strange. It was like...all of his emotions and thoughts were his again and oh no, did he really say that to Cecil? No, that was...that was crossing one too many lines. Cecil had told him why he didn't talk to his family much and they'd spent hours curled up together with Cecil trying to forget a past he could not remember. And to use all that against him was terrible. But the Thing That Was Not Him was at the front of Carlos' mind and Carlos could only watch.

"Please," scoffed The Thing That Was Not Him. "You are a mere radio host. How would you have experience in banishing a being like me to a destination of your choosing?" Cecil chuckled. The sound was dark and threatening and it sent chills through Carlos' weakened astral projection. He didn't want to hear Cecil sound like that. This was the Cecil who could topple buildings and stage revolutions. You did not mess with this Cecil.

"Did you even bother researching where to properly possess a host?" Cecil snapped back, casually reaching into the nightstand next to Carlos and pulling out a canister of salt. Note to Carlos: ask Cecil just how many salt stashes he had lying around.

"I do not think it matters where so much as who," The Thing That Was Not Him responded with a smirk. "And I must say, this host was particularly easy to manipulate. It's already quite annoyed when weakened by illness."

"Noted," he replied with a smile. "To thank you for that information, I'll provide a little of my own..." The smile fell away, replaced with Cecil's most serious and most intimidating expression. "You are in Night Vale. Possessions? Pfft! They are a daily occurrence and you, pathetic little demon, have chosen the wrong scientist and, by default, radio host to mess with." With that, Cecil began pouring salt around the bed, muttering under his breath as he did so. Everything in Carlos' brain was protesting against the lack of science and logic but then again, this was Night Vale and when did logic ever apply to this strange little town?

The Thing That Was Not Him began to fidget, eyeing Cecil's movements. "What do you think you're doing?" it asked. Cecil snorted.

"You certainly are dumber than you seem," he said with a laugh. "You know, you almost had me but as soon as you mentioned Janice, I knew there was something wrong. What, is this your first possession?" Silence. "...No but really, I'm kind of curious. I promise I won't laugh."

"...Maybe."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

Cecil laughed.

"Hey!" The Thing That Was Not Him pouted. "You promised you wouldn't laugh!"

"Well, my fingers were crossed and I chanted the appropriate backwards Latin to break myself from said promise so...hmm, what the phrase I'm looking for?" Cecil tapped his chin absently, still allowing the salt to coat the floor in a hexagonal pattern. "Oh yeah:  _sucks to suck._ " He then pulled a ceremonial blade out from under the mattress (seriously, how much of this stuff was in their room? Carlos would definitely ask later) and quickly slit his thumb with practiced precision.

The Thing That Was Not Him was livid. Carlos could feel the rage building and could feel the anticipated movement for Cecil's throat. That thing wanted to shut Cecil up and, possibly, do much worse than leave Cecil voiceless. He wanted to warn his boyfriend, but his mind and spirit were too weakened from whatever he'd caught and he couldn't even utter a warning as his body sprung from the bed. Cecil's eyes widened as he and Carlos' body were thrown to the floor. The radio host's head banged against the hardwood floor of the bedroom, dazing him for a second. The Thing That Was Not Him tore the knife from Cecil's hand and pressed it against the man's throat. Carlos wanted to cry and he tried to fight back. Cecil simply blinked and moved his lips rapidly, although no noise escaped him.

"Last words?" The Thing That Was Not Him sneered, pushing down on the blade. Carlos screamed.

"Sov oge obacidep!" Cecil shouted. Carlos and the thing screamed together before he blacked out altogether.

* * *

 

"...Carlos? Hey, Carlos?"

Carlos' eyes twitched as a finger gently poked his forehead. "Mmm...five more minutes..." he mumbled into some sort of fabric.

"I'd love to, but I think my blood is getting on your face and I don't think you're quite ready for  _that_ part of our relationship. Also, while I really don't mind being your mattress, I think you'd be a lot more comfortable on our bed and drinking some tea." A hand was running through his hair. It felt nice. "Carlos, my beautiful, amazing Carlos..." The loving voice turned serious. "My show starts in two hours and I'd really like to get you settled before I leave."

His eyes snapped open.

Beneath him was a tired-looking Cecil with a small, exhausted smile on his face. Wait, why was Cecil underneath him? Now that he thought about it, what were they doing on the floor of their bedroom in the late afternoon light? And why did Cecil have a cut on his neck?

...Oh.  _Oh._

Carlos all but jumped to his feet. That was a bad idea, seeing as he had a moment of severe vertigo, but before he fell, Cecil was up just as quickly and there to steady him. "Oh my God Cecil..." Carlos mumbled. "Oh my God, I am so sorry for what happened! I-I don't know what came over me, but I shouldn't have said any of that and you're  _bleeding..."_ Cecil rolled his eyes and pressed their lips together. It was a quick peck on the lips, enough to shut Carlos up and enough to show that Cecil still loved him. Carlos blinked. "You do realize how unsanitary that was, right?"

"Silly Carlos," Cecil giggled. The sound was light and happy and it was almost enough to make Carlos forget about that dark, cynical sound that had escaped Cecil's throat not too long ago. Almost. "Everyone knows that sicknesses aren't contagious once the demon possessing the ill has been eradicated. By the way, you're very welcome."

"I-I don't quite understand," Carlos stuttered. "All those things I said to you were completely-"

"Not your own," Cecil finished, guiding Carlos back into bed and pulling the blanket over his body. "Demons like causing as much damage as possible, be that emotional or physical or whatever. It wasn't you Carlos, you're too wonderfully nice for that." How could Cecil still smile like that?

"But Cecil," he protested. All that earned him was a pat on the shoulder.

"Shhhh..." Cecil hushed. "Don't think about it too much, it wasn't you. Now I'm going to make you some tea and clean up the blood on your forehead, ok?"

"What about you? You should probably take care of that cut..."

Cecil waved his hand in a careless manner. "Oh, it's already scabbed over, I'm not too worried. I'll be right back." As he left, Carlos let out a sigh. He didn't want to say anything, but some of the things he, or the demon, had said weren't too far off from the truth. Who else did Cecil have? Old Woman Josie was apparently an old friend, but she and Cecil hadn't interacted with each other for over an hour since they had started dating. Earl Harlan was back, but he was more of a very good friend to Cecil and ever since coming back, didn't seem to have the capacity to emotionally support Cecil like he used to. And then there was Janice and Cecil's sister, who were a whole other story that felt far too complicated than it had to be. But as far as close relationships go, who did Cecil have?

Then again, who else did Carlos have?

Cecil returned far too quickly, carefully wiping away the blood as Carlos drank his tea. Now that the demon was gone, Carlos could actually be of some help. Cecil agreed that Carlos was only left with a mild case of the flu, so normal, traditional treatments would work. Finally, something that made sense. He'd instructed Cecil to grab some ibuprofen or Advil out of the medicine cabinet, but the radio host returned with zero pills and an embarrassed expression.

"Nothing?" Carlos asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Well...not exactly," Cecil replied, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Do we have any?"

"Um, yes and no. Ibuprofen is kind of banned due to an influx of venomous beetles in the last shipment the town received and Advil has a tendency to randomly turn into silicon chips, usually on every third Friday of the month..."

"So we're out of both."

"I found some Vicodin, if that helps."

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Cecil, why would I take Vicodin for the flu?"

"You don't?"

"Cecil, Vicodin is a highly addictive drug!" Carlos exclaimed, a look of horror on his face. Sometimes, he just couldn't deal with Night Vale. "Why do we even have it?"

"The Sheriff's Secret Police tell me to take a pill after every re-education. I just thought it was an aspirin substitute since it's a pain med." Of course, Cecil Logic (patent pending).

"...We're going to talk about that later," Carlos sighed. "Do we have Tylenol?"

"We always have Tylenol."

"Just get me that." His tone was a lot more snappy than he was used to. Carlos blushed before adding a timid, "Please."

"Whatever you need, Master Carlos," Cecil replied with a smirk. Carlos groaned, sliding down the pillows.

"Please don't call me that," he muttered, face buried in his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm not particularly pleasing to be around when I'm sick."

"So I've noticed," Cecil laughed, slipping back into the bedroom and placing the bottle of pills on Carlos' nightstand. Gently, he lifted Carlos' hands away from his face and smiled. "Alright, it's there when you need it. I need to go soon, so just call or text if you need anything. If it's an emergency, call the station's phone and I'll come back as soon as I can, ok?"

Carlos nodded, carefully freeing one of his hands and running it along the gauze around Cecil's neck. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Of course I'm sure." Cecil's voice was smooth and reassuring, dropping to radio pitches as he did so. Something about that particular frequency calmed Carlos down enough to trust Cecil's (usually awful) judgment. "I've had worse than this before."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"I figured as much." Cecil kissed Carlos' forehead again and this time, the scientist did not pull away, He relaxed into the affectionate action, letting Cecil run a hand through his hair as well. "Don't worry so much," he mumbled into Carlos' head. "You know how you always say 'a scientist is usually fine?'"

"Yeah?"

"Well," Cecil pulled away and stood up with a smirk. "A radio host is unusually tenacious."

And in that moment, Carlos could truly believe that Cecil would be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Author Fun Fact: Disparition is following me on Tumblr. I can feel your jealousy. Muahahahaha.


End file.
